November 18, 2013

So my dear friend and neighbor called this morning, wanted to know if she could come right over. Said she had been looking for Christmas wrapping paper, and found… actually rescued… something of mine from under her bed. Under her bed? Now let me tell you, she sure had my attention on that one! How did anything of mine get down the road a piece, into her house, and—most puzzling of all—under her bed!? And it was quite apparent she didn’t want to tell me over the phone. Dear-dear… this was bamboozling, and yes, I’ll admit it, my curiosity was thoroughly piqued!

“Sure… come on over...” I invite, and as soon as we hang up, I scramble to clean things up a bit—this is Monday morning after-all, laundry day, clean-up-from-the-weekend day… and I’m hardly in lace-and-ruffles mode, you see. But, she and I are friends-from-way-back; we’ve seen each other at our best and worst, and been through thick-n-thin together, so I pat my hair in the mirror, put on the kettle, and assume that, because she knows me well, she’ll overlook the piles of clothes waiting at the washer, and the breakfast dishes all over the counter!

At the door, she wears a mischievously worried expression. She is holding a very small bag, carefully closed at the top, and as I accept it, she warns, “Be careful… she might get out.”

I peek inside, and there, dressed in her finery, is none other than Fivelina.
“Sorry, Mama Hare… I never meant to be such trouble…” she whispers worriedly. “I was at the Underground Warehouse yesterday, and found this lovely wreath I wanted to bring, just for you. You’ll note it even has a sweet little hare on the front… and well, I didn’t get on my way soon enough last night, and I’m afraid I lost my way in the dark. Dear me. My heart’s been all aflutter, and my family must be worried sick…” she sank back down in the bag looking utterly miserable.

“Now-now, dear Fivelina,” I comforted. “Not to fret. I’ll bring you right home to MouseHouse and all will be well.” I lifted her gently out of the bag, careful not to muss her beautiful bonnet, and carried her to BackPorch where she perched on Papa Hare’s chair for a minute while I took her picture.

“Oh Ma’am… I must look a fright…” she tittered as I readied the camera. “But thank you for your kindness, and please… this little wreath is just for you.”

I thanked her kindly, then lifted her up to MouseHouse where, sure enough, Sir Fivel stood waiting worriedly at the door. She ran to him with a little cry of joy, and they embraced heartily. I looked away politely, and with a smile of thanks to my friend, we settled on BackPorch for freshly brewed cuppas and a long overdue chat.

Ah! We never know what a day will bring, do we?